Armando Mendez Carrasco. (1915-1984)

Belongs to that group of intelligent and enlightened Chilean intellectuals who dared to describe the human landscape, as it is, bluntly, using clear language, precise, every day of our people, or put it in other words without mincing words, it is a plain language without folds and can call things by their name. Armando Mendez Carrasco as many others were banished by the academy and elite intellectual from Chile, by the mere fact of not using the stale language of cultural aristocracy, full of euphemisms, sweetened and prudish, language that is used to extol everything it foreigner, language that lacks the vital essence of our people, bone the street language which conveys affection, friendship, tragedy and the ladino acumen of our people who are able to make fun of careerism of its peers. Therefore, his literary work was branded as pornographic and vilified. From the “Website Escritores Cl”, I take this paragraph that says "The vision of prostitutes, pimps, parasites, is widely described in his novels and stories, all of which, it seems, was not favorite dish of Chilean literary criticism. So much so that one of the harshest critics and curators of Chile, said: "If the world described the novelist there really is not unusual for him out effective criminal, when children become adults and want to put the service passions lesson learned cunning and pugnacity of boys "(Raul Silva Castro). Correct, of course, the speaking of the characters, and finding swollen with "a dirty, rotten jargon".The images presented in his work are poverty in all its splendor and daily violence that is a breeding ground in populations that do not have the right to dream of a better life.Despite this, the writer rather than isolated, created his own publishing house that he named one of his characters: Juan Firula. Thus, Armando Mendez Carrasco can edit storybooks Juan Firula (1948), The widow Dolly (1951), The misconduct (1958), Two stories Jazz (1963); novels Wounded World (1955), Chicago Chico (1962), Order, Lieutenant! (1965), John Firula Chronicles (1965), Cachetón Pelota (1967) and The Shit (1970) Night without stories numbers (1980), John Firula Reflections (1973), Dictionary of Under world Slang (1979) the discipline of Carrasco Mendez it is nor strange in Chilean literature. Meet predecessors. Without going too far, he mentions John Lucero of Augusto D'Halmar, El Rio de Alfredo Gómez Morel, hijo de ladrón of Manuel Rojas , The Dark Men and Blood and The Hope of Nicomedes Guzmán, like moneybags of Juan Godoy , This is not the paradise Luis Rivano, Barrio Bravo Luis Cornejo and the very first literary work of Hernán Rivera Letelier.

Pedro Lemebel.

Or the resurrection of singing.

You took us down the path of consciousness,with the poignant truth of the wordsshowed the cruel reality of the dispossessed,you pointed out the dreams of many with the warm

pace of your heartthe torrent of your voice sprawl abundantthe continent of the punished,with the proletarian review of our historyyou built the scaffolding from which the workersmay someday write free to all windsthe truths hidden by the bourgeois prosemelodramatic.The Zanjon de la aguada saw your first stepswhere you discovering the windingDemocracy prostituted in speechtracing paper that appears every sotime selling the citizen representationto the highest bidder,estrellaste in the commercial face of the countrythe real name of the Everydaythat traveling from mouth to mouth bouncein the walls of the camps.The stroke of your hand recorded the actual conceptsthe eternal pursuit of the settlersin their overcrowding of hopes and dreams.

From jump to jump.

From jump to jump, I see your facedrawn in the intense mirageI sighted in distance,I accelerated my walk trying to shortenthe space between usand so, to see my scrawnysilhouetted figure in the glareof your pupils.From Jump to jump, I approachto my truths that disfigurein a rickety horizonby the thousands of attempts to wanttranslate it into a drawing,I tried an infinite number of timesfailing miserably,for each way journeybeads of sweat runmy face leaving indeliblefootprint of years.from jump to jump, my stepslet me stumblesometimes ending with my nosescratched of many falls,there are times that try to clingthe branches of the bushesbreaking them with my dead body,downcast and silent I tryto avoid with my jumpsthe fences that stand silentbetween your pupil and mine.From jump to jump, I've noticedthe gear of your eyesgoverning the wheels that rulethe voices of my heart.

Go away.

Pack up your gearand mounted on the crook mareset riders to the cave of yours liesget out, collect yours pouchesfull of celebrity jokeand yours shitty acrobats juggling.Open your mouth and get swallow one by one,but do not forget to bring alongtheir satraps thieves,get out and do not mislead the peoplewith flattering idleness leavingof their mouths.Go away, carrying the hypocritical lookpeers for each nightand get covered by the blanket of freedomand the democracy notconsume you of cold.Go away thieves without PENTAwith their coats pompouswith the audacity of his theft,camouflaging with the clergypusillanimous, exuding waterbaptismalseek refuge in the bunchyou purchased.Go away, you have bitten the handthe neighbor with the gold toothsubtracted the wealth to preyas vile usurers,when you feel the sun leavesto shine run to the nearest garrisonto touch the knockers.Go away, is enough to takefrom the Pandora Boxgross tricks.

Dissolve.

love dissolves in the airwith a smile full of gunpowder,and looking the moon with the questionin the throat, is not been use for,the streets become ridesof anyone, cross, and we lookwith misgivings, with a wink ofyou do not exist.The words dissolvebetween the angle of the mouth,and if I write makes me achemy soul, my heart is crushedwith every bullet flying without reason,Will we have to make wayin silent?nowhere is it that awaits when we turnthe corner,the eyes of the eyes see only the tinselhanging from the windows,tomorrow I buy dreams shoes,but side to me the death walkingcarrying in their hands the hatredof other.Love is dissolved in the air,carrying with him the souls of men.